


Ever After

by agynesschap



Category: Ever After (1998), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, I will add more tags as the story progresses, M/M, Mahal save the King, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:59:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agynesschap/pseuds/agynesschap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's life through trials, betrayals and dangers. And Love. And perhaps a little glass slipper left behind...?</p>
<p>Inspired by the 1998 movie Ever After, Bilbo might not wear his mother's gown and a pair of wings, but he might take flight in another level.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An apple a day keeps the Prince away

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I hope this was good :D I do not know when I can update next. :) Oh, and if you haven't seen Ever After, I recommend you should (because it is a beautiful film), even though I would depart from some scenes in the movie :D.

Bilbo woke up to the crows of the chickens. He breathed in deeply and as he exhaled, a cloud of ashes stirred from where he was laying. The ashes swirled up and became visible as they reach the windows where the dark periwinkle hue of the sky was starting to fade. Rising up, he stretched his sore back and grabbed from the floor his copy of _Azanulbizar_ , an epic about the great Dwarven battle against the Orcs that lasted for 9 years, which happened a century ago. The book, one of the many found in his father's library, was all he could get after a fire ravaged their house when he was 10 years old. And although his father had to start (almost) from scratch, little by little books began to grace their house again, and by the time he was 16, their library was even bigger than before. He loved the book dearly, even though it was clearly a fictional representation of the real battle at Azanulbizar, an event in which if the invading Southerners won, the Shire would have been lost to the kingdom of Erebor.

Groaning slightly, he walked from the couch and retreated to his bedroom. From what he could see from the window, it was still too early to be up and about and decided that maybe another hour of sleep might do him good. It was already becoming a habit of him to sleep on the couch while reading chapters from _Azanulbizar_ as a way to lull himself to sleep.

When he reached his bed and throw himself to it, all the thoughts that he had been harboring last night came back. He was alone. All alone.

For the last 4 years, he should have been immune to the loneliness creeping into his heart every night where the darkness consumes all the light of the day. But he found it hard to be immune. And just like for the past 4 years, here on the same bed, Bilbo cried himself until he slept.

* * *

 After the early death of his parents, Bilbo inherited a large sum of money and an ample land that contained the house, a ranch and an orchard to which he thought was overwhelming for someone, at that time, to own at the age of 16. Of course he can't look after the chores everywhere, but the death of his father ensured the termination of employment for most of their servants (some even left just before the funeral of his parents which until today, enrages him). So he asked for the Greenhands to continue to work for him as they worked for his father. They were more than happy to hear this, and he cried when they crushed him in a hug and told him how they were happy to care for the child of their employer.

He received them with skepticism at first, but during the time when his relatives almost got to own his property, leaving him stressed with the court proceedings and was at the brink of breaking down and relenting to their persistent pestering, Holman supported him and always told him to never give in as this was his and rightfully his. He reminded him that his father would have wanted him to inherit the land rather than anyone. And when the Sackville-Baggins' stormed to his house to demand that he step down as the owner, the Greenhands were there and kicked the arses of his relatives off his sight. The issue was dropped and from then on, he never doubted their sincerity.

Two years later, Holman introduced a new member to the household, his young cousin Hamfast Gamgee. Bilbo and Hamfast became fast friends, treating him as his brother who he never came to know. But even though he had found a brother, he still felt lonely. Hardly anything can even make him smile or laugh loudly. Another two years and the manor prospered, but Bilbo still has his doubts on his own happiness.

* * *

 

He woke up when the sun was just out of his window. Seeing this, he went down and found Hamfast already preparing breakfast. “Good morning Hamfast,” he greeted hoarsely.

“Good morning Bilbo,” he sounded a little startled. Bilbo's disheveled look wasn't helping.

“Where are the others?” he inquired.

“Oh, some are at the farm, others are cleaning the stables, mister Holman's just outside tending the garden,”

“Call them now, would you please? A cold breakfast isn't that enjoyable,”

Smiling, Hamfast set off to fetch the rest.

Bilbo wanted that they all eat breakfast together. Holman disagreed with him at first, but after a few more persistent pleading (and telling him that work in the morning with an empty stomach was bad), the Gaffer relented.

After greeting everyone, they started breakfast. A lot of talk was concerned about work, but other topics were shared as breakfast progressed. “And of course the gardens are still blooming, though this might just be for a while, as fall is on the way,” the Gaffer commented. “Well, with you tending them, they just might survive the fall,” Bilbo smiled at the head of his household. “Did you hear that the prince would be married to a Lasgalen princess?” May intrigued. “Which prince?” Marigold asked. “Oh, I don't know, but they do say he was the handsome one of the two,”

“And where do you get all this gossip, hmm?” Bilbo asked teasingly. May blushed. “Oh, it was the talk of the market. They say that it would be the one with hair as black as night,” Everyone sniggered while May continued to describe him. “He was tall as the oaks, and he was every bit as grand as the king. They say he has eyes as blue as the ocean in a clear day,” She sighed while Marigold snorted into her cup. “Last time when we went there, the day before yesterday was it?”

“Is Master Bilbo going to town today?” Brenda, Holman's second daughter, inquired. “Brenda, I told you to call me Bilbo. Hmm, no, not today,” He said with a playful pout. Holden, the youngest, giggled. At such a young age, he refused to be called Master Bilbo. “Oh, sorry,” she smiled sheepishly and returned to chatter with his elder brother, Holman III. “Well, I bet that prince's hair is nothing as magnificent as your father's horse,” Holman II. remarked. This earned him a light smack to his head from his father. “Watch your tongue, don't go comparing horses to their highnesses,” Holman said with a stern face. “Ey, but no one's here to hear that except us,” Holman II gingerly pet his head.

“You might just prattle it on when you're in town,” Violet, Holman's wife regarded him with a wary look.

“Oh yes, about that horse, how is he?” Bilbo asked.

“Still in good shape, mane's still shining, but I doubt he won't be able to go for long distances,”

“Well, he has served long,” After a momentary distraction, Bilbo remarked,“I shall be making pies today,” A groan of approval rang through the table. “Oh, yes please. I find that your pies are leagues better than May's, she always burns it,” Marigold commented. They all laughed while May sent Marigold a stare. Marigold is the eldest daughter and May goes after her. “Oh, well, in that case, I better be off to find if there are any ripe apples,”

“Do you need assistance, dear?” Violet asked.

“Oh no, I'm fine. We better get things started around here if we want pies,” he smiled at them all. After everyone was finished eating, he stood up, took his bowl and made his way for the well when Hamfast snatched his bowl. “If you're to make those pies, you best be on your way now while the day is young,” he teased. Bilbo lightly punched his left arm, and Hamfast yelped comically. He then bid them all a good day and left with a basket.

When he reached the orchard, he heard the galloping of horses. Funny, the stables were far from here so why should he hear gallops? Turning to the source of the sound, he saw a black horse, his father's, running towards his direction. He was about to run to it to calm it down and take it back when he noticed that a hooded figure was riding it. He dropped the basket and ran to the nearest tree. “Oh no you don't,” he muttered and hastily bent to collect fallen apples. Aiming for the thief's head, he threw an apple and it hit the hooded figure straight to where his forehead would be. The thief groaned and fell from the steed and hit the ground loudly.

“Thief!” Bilbo cried while still hurling good sized apples at the man still shrouded in his hood. He was writhing and trying to get around his cloak.“You should learn better than to try and steal my father's horse!” Each apple he threw was met with a loud 'oy' or 'ouch' from the mystery man. After running out of apples to throw, he bent to get some more, but the man successfully wrenched his cloak out of his face and stood up abruptly causing his whole body to sway together with his golden hair. He was panting heavily and his eyes were a bit tired but wild with adrenaline.

Seeing who the man was, Bilbo gasped and dropped to his knees, not daring to lift his face. It was the prince Frerin! “Forgive me, your Highness, for I didn't see you!” While prostrated to the ground, he was analyzing how grave his action was and what punishment it would entail. He realized that his property could be taken from him and he would lose his being entitled to as master of this land. And it might be given to his relatives. He shuddered to think of how the Sackville-Baggins would react to this. When the prince did not reply, he gulped and braced himself to lift his face. He was horrified when he saw a big red lump on the prince's forehead. Seeing the damage, he hastily lowered back his face. Even though his actions could land him in the dungeons, he found it funny. Still afraid to lift his face, he heard boots come close to him accompanied by heavy breathing. “Speak of this to, uh, no one, and I, uh, shall spare you,” he was still breathing heavily when he climbed back on the horse. "We have other horses, younger than that if you wish," Bilbo replied. "I wish for nothing more than to be free of my iron cage," the hardness of the prince's voice surprised him a bit, but he was more surprised when coins were dropped in front of him. “For your silence,” the prince dismissed and rode on with his father's horse.

Breathing slowly, he tried to digest what just happened. A prince stole his horse. Why? More importantly, the prince was alone without delegation. He escaped, maybe? But from what? And most importantly, why did he let him go just like that? Prince or not he stole it and the horse was his, for goodness sake! Fuming, he got up and started to march his way back when he remembered the coins. Debating on whether or not should he get them, he decided that the money could do good so he scooped them. It counted 20 gold coins. A very large amount. Still thinking of what he might do with them he ran back to the house, all thoughts of pie gone.


	2. Chapter 2

A sea of courtiers parted hurriedly out of the way, each bowing so low that their noses might just touch the floor. The raven haired prince did not even spare a glance to those present. Right now, he was not to be troubled with these petty people trying to look good and gain attention.  
Everyone did not rise up from their bent forms until he turned left for the throne room. They knew not to block his way nor to try and greet him when he was one of his moods. The results are devastating.

As the prince entered the throne room with its tapestries and flags hanging from the walls, he bowed to the king seated on the throne. The king's crown looked heavier with his crumpled face and knotted brows.  
“Your majesty-”  
“I find that you haven't brought back your brother yet,” The king was both tired and infuriated.  
The prince dould not answer immediately, trying to think of what to respond as to not further irritate the king. “He is... elusive,” He tried.

The king snorted and adjusted one of the many rings sitting on his fingers. “Elusive, you say, yet even those who try and hide from you are always brought to light, even the best in the games of shadows,” He rose from his seat and stepped forward to meet with the prince face to face.

“Where is he?” he whispered, his face dangerously leaning to the prince's.  
He did not meet his eyes and chose to focus his attention to a green flag emblazoned with a golden Eagle holding an elm branch. On the corners were Sindarin letters, though what they are he did not know.“A little stubborn today, are we?” The king looked ready to slap him but chose not to. The prince equalled the king's furious face with his own defiant stare, the air around tensed, no one dared to make their breaths audible.

“Leave us,” he ordered, and everyone else present in the room hurriedly left.  
“Even the dog, your majesty?” A servant holding a leash to a big hunting hound asked with a timid voice.  
“Even the damn dog! Out!” The king's voice ringed and the servant bowed and scurried away, dragging the dog who was stubbornly refusing to leave.

After the doors were closed, the king sighed and his tense shoulders dropped. He sat on the steps leading to the throne and removed the heavy crown that adorned his head. “You do understand how it is to be a king, do you?” He asked the still standing prince who did not drop his defiant stare. He said nothing and turned his face away to the high windows. “Of course, years and years of preparing you for the throne, all those words must have been drilled to your mind.” He said while toying with the crown. Still, the prince did not look at him. “But you will never understand what it is to be a father.”

At this, the prince turned to the king, who is looking at him expectantly. “I did not wish for this, Thorin, neither did I expect it, but it must be done.”

Thorin puffed out a breath and started to walk towards his father and knelt before him.  
“If only your mother was alive, she would know what to do with Frerin.” The king said while putting the crown down and buried his face in his palms.

“Mother's gone,” Thorin said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulders. “But you aren't,”  
“Oh how I wish I knew how to talk some sense into that boy, I don't know what she has that makes him listen to her,” he grumbled while cradling his face with his hand, the other hand grabbing for the crown. “I think I am better at commanding dogs than getting my sons listen to me.”  
“He hates this whole thing,”  
“He hates getting married to a Lasgalen princess and not to that wretched girl she fancies!”  
“What would he lose if he marries that girl?” Said Thorin while rubbing his forehead.  
“It's not what he would lose, it's what I would lose!” He shouted as he stood and clenched his fist around the crown. “I will put my kingdom first in my priorities than his stupidity!” The king was breathing heavily while his cheeks flushed with anger.

“I am his father, and most importantly his king! His loyalty lies to me and to this kingdom, not to his fantasies and games! I would rather see him married to that Lasgalen princess than risk my land to face another crisis!” He ended with a very loud voice. He then realized what he was talking as he put his right hand to his forehead and released his grip on the crown.

As the crown reached the floor, the clatter that followed it resounded throughout the room. Thorin's face was blank, unmoved by his father's distress. The silence in the room was so loud that King Thrain's panting was well heard. Thorin spared a glance to at him then moved his eyes to the throne.“I may not know how it feels to be a father, but I do know how it feels to be a son,” He turned and made to leave the room.

Then, his father spoke. “I do not know anymore how it is to be a father to my children. I have spent my whole life being a father to my people who is more demanding than them. I tried to become a father again to you, and yet with every attempt I fail.” He sounded defeated.  
Thorin stopped just as he was about to grab the handle of the door.

He stayed for a moment then turned his head slightly to the side. “You have not forgotten, but you chose to forget. We may be princes of this realm, loyal to you, but we are still your children.”  
Thrain was still heavily breathing but his eyes were brimming with tears.

“I will resume in finding him not because you wanted it, but because he is my brother.” Thorin tentatively touched the handle of the door. Then, before wrenching it open, he turned around and bowed, face still blank. “Your majesty,” he said and walked away leaving the king and his dented crown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose to replace the Spanish princess with an elf one, hence the term "Lasgalen" taken from Eryn Lasgalen, Sindarin word for Mirkwood, and you know what happens when these guys get together with Dwarves. :D  
> If you have other suggestions on what to call people from Eryn Lasgalen (I don't really know Sindarin) please do tell. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I have given Holman Greenhand a wife and kids (I really don't know if he had them canonically) :D  
> And some names are not really Hobbitish, forgive me.  
> And I have turned them into humans. But they still retain some characteristics unique to their race e.g. Dwarves are stoic and hard, Hobbits are a bit smaller than most people, Elves are still the pompous dudes we know.  
> Also, the Battle of Azanulbizar. Please forgive me if I have turned it into an epic story. :D  
> Don't worry, Thorin will make his debut next chapter :D


End file.
